Dark Horse: It’s smokin’
The Americanisation of Britain is a deplorable thing, its worst manifestation being the inability of any teenage girl to construct a sentence that does…
Opinion
Two Cats: Thanks for bringing us the C-word!
Birmingham’s culinary journey from gastronomic backwater to a city of a thousands tastes can, perhaps, be encapsulated in just one letter – the letter…
Nomad: Razor-sharp with the clams!
Audacity is a good thing in a chef. It challenges the tedious. It creates new experiences for customers. It’s exciting. It can, of course,…
It’s fine to dine scruffily
Tom Aikens, an extraordinarily talented chef with a gift for creating surprising dishes, was less surprising in a recent observation. Fine dining, he said,…
The Plough left me with no furrowed brow
Please let no-one run away with the idea that I have anything but the greatest respect for Harborne and its inhabitants. To spend a…
Stupid slates, wonky wheelbarrows and barmy boards
It is difficult to imagine who, other than a midget gardener, would want a miniature watering can. Yet I, admittedly of restricted height but…
Anderson’s Bar & Grill: no gnawing doubts
Yabba dabba doo. Iron me my bearskin tunic. Pass me my club. Empty the pet dinosaur’s litter tray. I suddenly became Fred Flintstone when…
Old Moseley Arms: all ale good curry and beer
There are cravings that are sometimes incompatible. Watching Birmingham City and having a life untouched by disappointment, for instance. Being a Villa fan and…
The Stable: such boaring puns
The marketing wizards of the pizza, pie and cider chain The Stable no doubt had a meeting at which they decided how best to…
Mr White’s English Chophouse: hit me with a fish
Given the choice between hitting myself repeatedly over the head with a large frozen haddock and returning to eat at the ludicrously-named Mr White’s…